lgbtfest SPN fic "Four Years Later"
Yay, I finished my lgbtfest fic! Just under 3 hours before the deadline (aka 12am tonight. ^^;). I'm pretty happy with it. Couldn't think of a title but needed something, so this one'll do. If anyone has a better idea, please let me know - I'm utterly hopeless at titles.
Title: Four Years Later
Author: ria_oaks
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/characters: Sam, Dean, Sam/OMC
Rating: G
Disclaimer: None of the characters within belong to me, etc etc. They belong to Kripke and everyone else who owns the rights to Supernatural...
Prompt: 775. Supernatural: Sam, Dean, and John Winchester. AU where Sam leaves at 18 not just to attend university, but because he comes out as gay to his father. John has a hard time accepting it, they both say things they don't mean, and Sam leaves. Sam dates various boys at university, and Jessica is a man instead of a woman. 4 years later John is missing, Dean comes to get Sam, and 'Jessica' dies, just like in the series. To what extent has Dean come to terms with Sam's sexuality? How does Sam's sexuality affect their relationship now that they're on the road searching for their father? And if it gets to that point, what happens with John and Sam reunite? Can be Wincest, or just gen.
Summary: Four years ago Sam left to follow the man he loved to college. Now John is missing and Dean comes to get Sam, dredging up old memories and buried anger in them both.
Warnings: None, really.
Author's Notes: This is basically an AU parallel of the pilot episode, and hence some dialogue has been lifted from that episode. Not much, maybe 3-4 lines, but they're there. The majority of the dialogue I invented based on the assumption that different circumstances will have lead to different dialogue, but I kept a few assorted things. I take no credit for those lines. :) Also, looking back at the prompt I realize I kinda fudged it a bit, but in my defense I submitted the prompt to begin with... As I was writing, certain things shaped together differently than I expected them to.
Dean hesitated in front of the door leading to Sam’s apartment. He briefly considered just breaking in and surprising his brother, but after the way they’d last parted he suspected that Sam wouldn’t be particularly amused. It had been four years since Sam had stormed out of the house yelling at their father that he wasn’t going to change who he was and if John didn’t accept it then he could go to hell. Four years since he had last seen his brother to tell him that he was sorry he hadn’t defended him, and that he had come to accept what Sam had told them that day. A part of him still found it difficult, but he was willing to try - always had been, he realized now, but he hadn’t figured it out in time before Sam was gone and it became obvious that he wasn’t coming back. He doubted that Sam would be happy to see him, but he knew he had to push past that resistance and convince him to come with him. This was too important to waste time on past grudges and old mistakes.
Dean took a deep breath then reached up and knocked on the door. No answer. Well, it was three in the morning, after all. But this couldn’t wait until morning. He knocked again, harder this time. A few seconds later a muffled male voice - not Sam’s - called out that he would be there in just a moment. Dean tapped his fingers against his leg impatiently and tried not to think too hard about what another man was doing in Sam’s apartment at three in the morning. Logically he knew that it could just be a roommate, but he suspected that wasn’t the case. Less than a minute later, the door opened and a good looking twenty-something young man poked his head out.
“Yes?” He was shirtless, Dean noted and in spite of himself his heart sank a bit. He’d told himself that he would try to understand, but he still found it hard when faced with the evidence. ‘Could still be a roommate,’ he reminded himself.
“I’m looking for Sam Winchester. He here?”
The other man looked at him irritably. “Do you realize what time it is?”
“It’s important. Can you just get him?”
A sigh. Then, “yeah, hang on a sec.” The head disappeared for a moment. “Hey, Sam! Someone here to see you.”
A painfully familiar voice within called out, “Just a minute!” Dean felt a slight pang in his chest at the sound of his brother’s voice, but he pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time for sentimental reunions (come to think of it, no time was). He was here strictly on business. He turned his attention to the irritatingly good-looking man in front of him.
“So, who are you?” As if he didn’t already suspect.
The young man looked him up and down briefly, seemed to make a decision, then steadfastly replied, “Sam’s boyfriend.”
“Ah.” Guess that hadn’t changed, then. Not that he’d expected it to have, really. He wondered if this was the same guy for whom Sam had left to follow to college four years ago. He’d never met James, that he could recall, but his appearance fit what Sam had told them when he left.
“You’re the brother, aren’t you?”
“That’s me. Dean Winchester, nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand and gave what he considered to be his best ‘I’m a good guy, really’ smile. The other man considered him for a moment then took the proffered hand.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Dean.” A slight edge to his voice. Dean suspected that whatever Sam had told his boyfriend about him, it wasn’t all good. He tried not to feel annoyed at the thought. He knew he deserved at least some of Sam’s anger, but that didn’t do much to assuage his irritation over the abrupt way Sam had left without letting him or their father come to terms with the idea that their brother and son was gay.
“Can’t say the same about you,” he replied, keeping the smile friendly. “Mind if I come in?”
A pause, then a nod. The other man opened the door wider and Dean walked into the front entranceway of the apartment.
Sam’s boyfriend - James? - was watching him with slightly narrowed eyes, which Dean tried to ignore. He didn’t want to start a fight, he just wanted to get Sam and leave. Their father could be anywhere the country by now, and he didn’t have time to get into a fight with a guy who he could have on the floor in less than ten seconds if he wanted to. Fortunately he was saved the trouble of doing so a moment later, as Sam walked out of the bedroom pulling a shirt over his head.
“Who is it, James - ” he froze as his head popped out from the neck of the t-shirt and he saw Dean. “What the - Dean? What the hell are you doing here? It’s three o’clock in the morning! Wait, never mind that, how did you find me?”
“Nice to see you too, Sammy.” He should’ve realized this wouldn’t be as easy as showing up and saying hi, as though nothing had happened. And it seemed he’d been right; Sam was still seeing this guy four years later. He supposed it really had been more serious than he or their dad had assumed at the time,
In spite of himself, and knowing that it would just antagonize Sam further, he was already falling into the old teasing habits. “To answer your second question first, if you can’t figure that out then evidently four years at Stanford have just made you more of an idiot. Don’t they teach anything at school these days?”
Sam just glared at him. “Don’t call me that. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
Dean glanced over at James, who had moved to stand protectively beside Sam and was keeping a watchful eye on Dean. “Can we take this outside?”
“Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of James.” Sam replied.
“No, I really can’t.” Dean gave his brother a pointed look. He knew that Sam knew perfectly well what this had to do with, if not in the specifics, and was just being a stubborn idiot.
“You haven’t bothered to contact me in four years, what on earth could be so important that you’d hunt me down halfway across the country?”
“Samm - Sam, I mean, just trust me on this, okay? I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t urgent.”
Wrong answer. “And that’s just what I’m talking about, isn’t it Dean? I don’t hear a thing from you in four years, and you only bother to find me when it’s ‘urgent’? Just… get out of here, Dean. I’m not interested in whatever you have to say.”
“Dammit, Sam -” Dean sighed in frustration. He would’ve preferred to have done this without an audience, but he didn’t have the time or inclination to drag this out. “Dad’s missing.”
To his annoyance, Sam didn’t look as perturbed by the news as he’d hoped. “Dad always used to take off for a couple of days at a time, I’m sure he’ll show up.”
“He went on a hunting trip, and it’s been more than a couple of days. It’s been almost a week, Sam, and he hasn’t contacted me and I can’t get him on his cell. Something’s wrong, I’m sure of it.” Silently he willed Sam to just listen and come outside with him so they could talk about this privately. He was getting tired at the way James was glaring at him and standing half in front of Sam, as though he could protect him. He snorted inwardly. ‘As if Sam needs his protection. Right.’
Sam let out a sigh, but his expression showed a hint of worry. “What do you want me to do about it, Dean? Why did you come all this way to tell me this? You obviously know how to get a hold of me, why not just pick up the phone?”
James cut in. “Why can’t the police handle this? What do you expect Sam to do?”
Dean spared a glance at him then turned back to Sam. “I told you, I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. Just come outside and hear me out, okay?”
Sam paused for a few moments then slowly nodded.
“Good.” Dean opened the door and looked at him expectantly. Sam paused again then deliberately turned towards James. They spoke quietly, but Dean could pick up what they were saying easily enough.
“You don’t need to listen to him, Sam. He and your dad practically threw you out, you don’t owe them anything.”
“They didn’t throw me out, James. I made the decision to leave and come with you, and I don’t regret it, but… they’re family, you know? I should at least listen to what he has to say.”
James signed and nodded. “Fine, just… I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Sam smiled slightly and reached up to cup his face. “Yeah, I know.” He threw a deliberate look in Dean’s direction then leaned in and pressed his lips to James’. James’ eyes fluttered closed, but Sam continued to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye, as though waiting to see how he’d react. ‘Well hell with that,’ Dean thought irritably. ‘I’m not rising to his bait.’ He returned Sam’s look, and pointedly watched them kiss with his best ‘I’m completely uninterested’ face on. A part of him recoiled slightly at the sight of his little brother kissing another man, but he was determined not to let it affect him.
Sam seemed intent on prolonging Dean’s discomfort as long as possible, but after a minute or so he broke away. Dean raised an eyebrow at him waved his hand towards the open door, gesturing for Sam to go through. Sam sighed and nodded, then brushed past Dean and walked outside. Dean threw a final glance at James then followed his brother outside, shutting the door behind him.
“Dean, after everything that’s happened between us, do you really expect me to just drop everything and hit the road with you?”
“You’re not hearing me Sammy. Dad’s missing, I need you to help me find him.”
Sam glared at him. “I told you not to call me that. And you remember the poltergeist in Amherst, or the devil’s gates in Clifton? He was missing then too, he’s always missing and he’s always fine.”
“Not for this long. Now you gonna come with me or not?”
Sam shook his head. “Forget it, Dean. Do you remember the things he said to me? Besides, I’m done hunting.”
“Dammit, Sammy, you’ve gotta know he didn’t mean those things. He just didn’t know how to react. What’d you expect? One moment everything’s normal - ” He was interrupted by a snort from Sam. “Well, as normal as they ever were,” he amended. “Then all of a sudden you just start up a conversation with ‘oh by the way I’m dating this guy now’, and expect him to just smile and nod?”
“Yes! Christ, Dean. Is it so much to expect that my family will support me in something like this? All my life I’ve fought with Dad over hunting, over Mom and the demon, over school… but I didn’t think he was so intolerant that he’d practically kick me out of the house for admitting that I was gay!”
“He didn’t kick you out of the house, you left! If you’d just given him time, he would’ve come to terms with it.”
“Did he?”
Dean looked slightly taken aback. “What?”
“Did he ever come to terms with it? Did the two of you ever talk about it, or did you just conveniently not think about it whenever you talked about me?”
“Sam…” Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair impatiently. “We don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear to get on with it and come help me find Dad?”
“It’s a start,” Sam muttered. He was silent for a few minutes then nodded. “Fine, I’ll come. But just this one time, ‘til we find Dad.”
“Fine,” Dean replied. “Whatever you say.”
They left it at that, for the time being, as Dean filled Sam in on the case their dad had been tracking, and the message he had left Dean. That done, Sam turned to go back inside.
“I’ll just let James know that I’m going and then pack a few things. Give me ten minutes.” He turned and walked back inside before Dean could reply.
Dean sighed. This wasn’t how he’d imagined seeing Sam again, but given how things had gone between them when Sam left he supposed he should’ve expected it. And the truth was, he did regret it. Regretted not backing Sam up or defending him to their father. Sam had looked to him for support and understanding, for his big brother to be there for him like he always was, and Dean had failed him. He remembered that day like it was yesterday…
* * * * *
It was the summer of 2001, and they were living in an old house in some run-of-the-mill small town in Utah. They’d managed to settle down here for awhile, for once, long enough for Sam to actually start and finish a school year at the same high school. He was graduated now, and had been making noises about university. Something about a school out in California, and the possibility of law school after. He’d already had at least three fights with their dad about it, and Dean suspected he was looking at a long summer listening to them. In the end, though, it hadn’t been school that had driven Sam to leave. A part of it, sure - Dean knew that his little brother had aspirations for a life beyond hunting, and sometimes lying awake late at night he thought he did, too. But then, one swelteringly hot day in the middle of July, Sam had dropped the bombshell on them.
They were spending the day inside, fans whirring desperately in the heat. It was marginally cooler inside with the fans on than outside in the sun, at least. They’d gotten wind of some unusual deaths a few towns over, likely the result of a spirit of some sort, and were getting ready to head out. John was sitting in the living room polishing his guns, Dean beside him taking an inventory of holy water and salt and all the other accessories that had so long become a part of their daily routine and life. Sam was on his laptop researching, or at least that’s what he was supposed to be doing. Instead he seemed to be fidgeting, glancing down at the screen then up at John, then at his watch, then back at the screen again, though it was clear that he wasn’t reading a word of what was on the computer. Dean, nearly finished the inventory, had been watching this progression for several minutes when John finally looked up from the gun he was cleaning.
“Something you want to say, Sam?”
Sam started visibly; clearly he thought he was being stealthier than that.
“Um, n-no, sir,” he stuttered, staring back down at the screen, then again at his watch. Dean resisted the urge to point out that the computer had an in-built clock and therefore there was no reason to keep glancing at his watch.
“Right, then get back to work. If this pattern continues then we have less than twenty four hours before this son-of-a-bitch strikes again, and we’re no closer to figuring out who he was when he was alive.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam muttered, returning his blank gaze to the computer. Dean watched with some amusement as he fidgeted for a few more minutes, then finally raised his head again.
“Actually, Dad, there was something…” he gulped and seemed to gather himself. “The thing is, there’s this, uh, friend of mine, he’s leaving to go to Stanford this afternoon and I promised I’d see him off at the airport. His, um, his flight leaves in an hour, and…” he trailed off, obviously noting the unpleased expression on John’s face.
“Sam, another innocent person’s going to be dead by tomorrow if we don’t do something, and you’re worried about seeing some guy off to the airport? You can talk to him on the phone when he gets to California. Now come on, we have to figure this out then go stop this thing.”
Sam looked torn. “I know that, it’s just…” he stared down at his hands, his absurdly long hair falling in front of his eyes. “I really wanted to see him again, and…”
“Sam, the answer is no, and that’s final. Now get back to work.”
Sam’s eyes hardened. He glared back up at his father defiantly. “That’s all there ever is to you, Dad, isn’t it? Work, the job, hunting. We’ve been here almost a year and you don’t give a damn about the life I’ve had here or the people I’ve met. I’ve actually managed to be here long enough to meet someone else I give a damn about, and now that he’s leaving you won’t even let me see him one more time. I’ll be less than two hours, how much could that possibly set us back right now?”
“This is not up for discussion, Sam.”
“The hell it isn’t!” He stood up abruptly and Dean sighed in resignation to watching another fight break out between his brother and dad. “I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t just order me around like you’re still in the military! I’m your son, not some soldier you command, and I have my own life now. The person I love is leaving, and I may never see him again, and…” his voice suddenly trailed off as he seemed to realize what he had just said. He sank back into his seat with a stunned and vaguely horrified expression on his face. Dean felt frozen to his own seat, his eyes on his brother in shock. Of all the things he’d expected to hear, this was not it…
Clearly John felt the same way. His hands had stilled in their work, one clutching the gun he was cleaning and the other holding a cloth in a death grip. When he spoke it was quietly, and Dean knew that he was pissed. Silently, Dean willed him not to say anything stupid to Sam that he’d regret later.
“What did you just say?” There was steel in his voice. Too late, thought Dean with a sinking feeling. He didn’t know how he felt about Sam’s sudden revelation, and he couldn’t say he was thrilled about it, but Sam was still his little brother…
Sam just sat there staring at John in dull horror. He gulped and visibly gathered himself. “His name is James. He was in my Chemistry class this year, we were lab partners. It just… happened, Dad. He’s been over a few times, but you probably haven’t noticed…” a hint of accusation in that last part.
John seemed briefly distracted by this. “Blond kid? Looks like he plays football or something?”
Dean searched through his own memory, trying to recall the boy in question.
Sam had occasionally brought friends over, but no faces were popping up in his mind.
“Yeah,” Sam replied quietly, “that’s him. I’m surprised you remember.”
“And he’s been here before. With you. The two of you, under my roof.” Clearly the full meaning of this was sinking in.
Sam obviously realized the same. “Nothing happened here, Dad, really.” Dean could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful, and John seemed to know it too.
“I’m not having this, Sam, not in my house. My son is not queer, you got it? I didn’t raise you like that.”
Dean winced at the look on Sam’s face; he looked like he’d been slapped. This definitely wasn’t going a good way, and he knew he should intervene, but he didn’t know what to say. Whatever he said was going to further antagonize either his brother or his dad, and to be honest he himself wasn’t even certain what he felt. He knew it shouldn’t bother him, but thinking of his little brother with another man was… weird. At the least, it’d take some getting used to.
Sam and John stared at each other for a few more moments, then Sam silently stood up and walked out of the room. Dean glanced at his father, but John was just looking straight ahead, his hand still tightly clutched around the gun. Dean opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. He felt out of his league this time, and didn’t know what to say to either Sam or his father to make this better. They sat there silently, listening to Sam moving around and banging things upstairs. Less than ten minutes later Sam returned, a duffel bag and backpack slung over his shoulder.
“I’m leaving,” he announced in a flat voice.
Dean’s eyes flew to Sam’s face, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He opened his mouth again to say something, anything - to tell Sam that it didn’t matter to him, being gay. That he still loved him. Anything. But John beat him to it, finally throwing the gun aside with none of his usual care and standing up to face Sam.
“You’re not going anywhere, son. You’re going to stay here and we’re going to work this out, you got it? You’re just confused; once this kid’s gone things will go back to normal and we can forget it ever happened.”
Definitely not the right thing to say, Dean reflected. Sam was glaring at his father with more anger than Dean had ever seen in his face during their normal fights.
“I’m not just going to forget this, Dad. It’s not just some fling or experiment or whatever. I love James, and I’m gay. I always have been, you’ve just never bothered to notice. Didn’t you ever realize that I never had any girlfriends? That while Dean was out trying to get into the pants of every pretty girl he came across, I never showed any interest?”
Dean wanted to protest that last part, but on reflection decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.
Sam continued, “I’m not interested in girls, I never have been. That’s not going to change. And if that’s going to be a problem, then I’m not going to stick around. I want to go to Stanford with James, Dad. I’ve already been accepted, I’ve got a scholarship, and I’m going. And you can’t stop me.” His voice was rising steadily. “I’m gay, and I’m not going to change. I am who I am, and if you don’t like it you can go to hell.”
He turned to leave, and Dean finally found his voice. “Sam, wait,” he sounded more desperate than he’d meant to, but at least it made Sam pause for a moment. “Come on, Sammy, just stop for a minute and let us talk about it.” A part of him felt like laughing at the thought of him being the one to want to talk about something, being the one trying to persuade Sam to open up emotionally. But all he could think of now was that Sam was leaving, for real this time, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Sam turned to meet Dean’s eyes. His own eyes were hollow, his voice laced with pain. “There’s nothing to talk about, Dean. He’s,” and here he jerked his head towards John, “made his feelings on this perfectly clear. I stay and pretend to be straight, continue this half-life of constant moving and hunting that we lead, or leave and be with the man I love and go to college. Make a life for myself. I can’t ignore who I am, Dean, I just… I can’t do it.”
And before Dean or John could say another word, he turned once again and walked out the door.
* * * * *
By mutual silent agreement, Sam and Dean said nothing about James or the circumstances in which Sam had left four years ago as they worked together on the hunt. Everything went smoothly, or as smoothly as they ever do, and by Sunday night they were back at Stanford. Dean watched as Sam walked away from him and back towards his apartment, mulling over the last few days. He’d meant what he’d said - they had made a good team, and he couldn’t help but wish that Sam would be with him on the 600 mile trip to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado to track down Dad. But Sam had a life here, now, and Dean knew it’d take more than a couple of days back together on the hunt to lure him away from James and the promise of law school.
He started to drive away, right hand already fiddling with the cassette player, when a burst of light from inside the apartment made him stop. That did not look good. He slammed the car into park and bolted out, making for the front door. He heard Sam yell from inside, and without thinking he kicked down the door and ran inside. What he saw coming from the bedroom brought him up short, memories of his mother’s death, long dimmed by time, rushing to the forefront. James was on the ceiling, surrounded by flame, and Sam was on the bed under him staring up in shock and desperately calling James’ name.
Dean took quick stock of the room and realized that they had to get out of there, now, before the entire room erupted into flame. He grabbed Sam and tried to wrestle him out of the bedroom. “We gotta get out of here!” He yelled at him, pulling him off of the bed and towards the door.
“James! No!” Sam cried out, watching with anguished eyes as the flames consumed James. With some difficulty Dean dragged him from the room and out the front door, as the entire apartment burst into flames. Once outside, Sam dropped to the pavement, his legs no longer seeming able to support him. Beside him, Dean whipped out his cell phone and called 911. That done, he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, offering what silent support he had. Whatever uncertainty and discomfort he had felt over Sam’s choice in lovers, he’d never wanted this to happen. He’d seen how strongly his brother felt for the other man - strong enough to propel him to leave home and follow him to college, and strong enough to keep them together for over four years. Their dad may have thought it just a stage that Sam would get over, just a moment of sexual confusion in his youth, but Dean now knew that that wasn’t the case.
Under his hand he felt Sam’s shoulders shake as his brother started to cry. Unable to think of any words that could possibly comfort Sam right now, Dean settled for squeezing his shoulder and staying beside him as he cried. Not long later the firemen arrived, and he silently watched them go about their work putting out the flames. He felt Sam shift under him, shrugging off his hand then standing up. Sam glanced at Dean, and Dean could see the pain and anger burning in his red eyes. Without saying anything, Sam turned and walked towards where the Impala was parked. Dean hung around a few more minutes, watching as the firemen put out the last of the flames, then walked over to where Sam had the Impala’s trunk open and was loading a rifle. He glanced at his brother who sighed and nodded his head.
Sam tossed the rifle into the trunk. “We got work to do,” was all he said as he shut the trunk. Dean watched as he headed for the passenger seat, his back straight and belying any hint of his grief. With a sigh Dean moved to the driver’s side and opened the door. Sam was right, they had work to do.
Fin.
Title: Four Years Later
Author: ria_oaks
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/characters: Sam, Dean, Sam/OMC
Rating: G
Disclaimer: None of the characters within belong to me, etc etc. They belong to Kripke and everyone else who owns the rights to Supernatural...
Prompt: 775. Supernatural: Sam, Dean, and John Winchester. AU where Sam leaves at 18 not just to attend university, but because he comes out as gay to his father. John has a hard time accepting it, they both say things they don't mean, and Sam leaves. Sam dates various boys at university, and Jessica is a man instead of a woman. 4 years later John is missing, Dean comes to get Sam, and 'Jessica' dies, just like in the series. To what extent has Dean come to terms with Sam's sexuality? How does Sam's sexuality affect their relationship now that they're on the road searching for their father? And if it gets to that point, what happens with John and Sam reunite? Can be Wincest, or just gen.
Summary: Four years ago Sam left to follow the man he loved to college. Now John is missing and Dean comes to get Sam, dredging up old memories and buried anger in them both.
Warnings: None, really.
Author's Notes: This is basically an AU parallel of the pilot episode, and hence some dialogue has been lifted from that episode. Not much, maybe 3-4 lines, but they're there. The majority of the dialogue I invented based on the assumption that different circumstances will have lead to different dialogue, but I kept a few assorted things. I take no credit for those lines. :) Also, looking back at the prompt I realize I kinda fudged it a bit, but in my defense I submitted the prompt to begin with... As I was writing, certain things shaped together differently than I expected them to.
Dean hesitated in front of the door leading to Sam’s apartment. He briefly considered just breaking in and surprising his brother, but after the way they’d last parted he suspected that Sam wouldn’t be particularly amused. It had been four years since Sam had stormed out of the house yelling at their father that he wasn’t going to change who he was and if John didn’t accept it then he could go to hell. Four years since he had last seen his brother to tell him that he was sorry he hadn’t defended him, and that he had come to accept what Sam had told them that day. A part of him still found it difficult, but he was willing to try - always had been, he realized now, but he hadn’t figured it out in time before Sam was gone and it became obvious that he wasn’t coming back. He doubted that Sam would be happy to see him, but he knew he had to push past that resistance and convince him to come with him. This was too important to waste time on past grudges and old mistakes.
Dean took a deep breath then reached up and knocked on the door. No answer. Well, it was three in the morning, after all. But this couldn’t wait until morning. He knocked again, harder this time. A few seconds later a muffled male voice - not Sam’s - called out that he would be there in just a moment. Dean tapped his fingers against his leg impatiently and tried not to think too hard about what another man was doing in Sam’s apartment at three in the morning. Logically he knew that it could just be a roommate, but he suspected that wasn’t the case. Less than a minute later, the door opened and a good looking twenty-something young man poked his head out.
“Yes?” He was shirtless, Dean noted and in spite of himself his heart sank a bit. He’d told himself that he would try to understand, but he still found it hard when faced with the evidence. ‘Could still be a roommate,’ he reminded himself.
“I’m looking for Sam Winchester. He here?”
The other man looked at him irritably. “Do you realize what time it is?”
“It’s important. Can you just get him?”
A sigh. Then, “yeah, hang on a sec.” The head disappeared for a moment. “Hey, Sam! Someone here to see you.”
A painfully familiar voice within called out, “Just a minute!” Dean felt a slight pang in his chest at the sound of his brother’s voice, but he pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time for sentimental reunions (come to think of it, no time was). He was here strictly on business. He turned his attention to the irritatingly good-looking man in front of him.
“So, who are you?” As if he didn’t already suspect.
The young man looked him up and down briefly, seemed to make a decision, then steadfastly replied, “Sam’s boyfriend.”
“Ah.” Guess that hadn’t changed, then. Not that he’d expected it to have, really. He wondered if this was the same guy for whom Sam had left to follow to college four years ago. He’d never met James, that he could recall, but his appearance fit what Sam had told them when he left.
“You’re the brother, aren’t you?”
“That’s me. Dean Winchester, nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand and gave what he considered to be his best ‘I’m a good guy, really’ smile. The other man considered him for a moment then took the proffered hand.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Dean.” A slight edge to his voice. Dean suspected that whatever Sam had told his boyfriend about him, it wasn’t all good. He tried not to feel annoyed at the thought. He knew he deserved at least some of Sam’s anger, but that didn’t do much to assuage his irritation over the abrupt way Sam had left without letting him or their father come to terms with the idea that their brother and son was gay.
“Can’t say the same about you,” he replied, keeping the smile friendly. “Mind if I come in?”
A pause, then a nod. The other man opened the door wider and Dean walked into the front entranceway of the apartment.
Sam’s boyfriend - James? - was watching him with slightly narrowed eyes, which Dean tried to ignore. He didn’t want to start a fight, he just wanted to get Sam and leave. Their father could be anywhere the country by now, and he didn’t have time to get into a fight with a guy who he could have on the floor in less than ten seconds if he wanted to. Fortunately he was saved the trouble of doing so a moment later, as Sam walked out of the bedroom pulling a shirt over his head.
“Who is it, James - ” he froze as his head popped out from the neck of the t-shirt and he saw Dean. “What the - Dean? What the hell are you doing here? It’s three o’clock in the morning! Wait, never mind that, how did you find me?”
“Nice to see you too, Sammy.” He should’ve realized this wouldn’t be as easy as showing up and saying hi, as though nothing had happened. And it seemed he’d been right; Sam was still seeing this guy four years later. He supposed it really had been more serious than he or their dad had assumed at the time,
In spite of himself, and knowing that it would just antagonize Sam further, he was already falling into the old teasing habits. “To answer your second question first, if you can’t figure that out then evidently four years at Stanford have just made you more of an idiot. Don’t they teach anything at school these days?”
Sam just glared at him. “Don’t call me that. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
Dean glanced over at James, who had moved to stand protectively beside Sam and was keeping a watchful eye on Dean. “Can we take this outside?”
“Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of James.” Sam replied.
“No, I really can’t.” Dean gave his brother a pointed look. He knew that Sam knew perfectly well what this had to do with, if not in the specifics, and was just being a stubborn idiot.
“You haven’t bothered to contact me in four years, what on earth could be so important that you’d hunt me down halfway across the country?”
“Samm - Sam, I mean, just trust me on this, okay? I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t urgent.”
Wrong answer. “And that’s just what I’m talking about, isn’t it Dean? I don’t hear a thing from you in four years, and you only bother to find me when it’s ‘urgent’? Just… get out of here, Dean. I’m not interested in whatever you have to say.”
“Dammit, Sam -” Dean sighed in frustration. He would’ve preferred to have done this without an audience, but he didn’t have the time or inclination to drag this out. “Dad’s missing.”
To his annoyance, Sam didn’t look as perturbed by the news as he’d hoped. “Dad always used to take off for a couple of days at a time, I’m sure he’ll show up.”
“He went on a hunting trip, and it’s been more than a couple of days. It’s been almost a week, Sam, and he hasn’t contacted me and I can’t get him on his cell. Something’s wrong, I’m sure of it.” Silently he willed Sam to just listen and come outside with him so they could talk about this privately. He was getting tired at the way James was glaring at him and standing half in front of Sam, as though he could protect him. He snorted inwardly. ‘As if Sam needs his protection. Right.’
Sam let out a sigh, but his expression showed a hint of worry. “What do you want me to do about it, Dean? Why did you come all this way to tell me this? You obviously know how to get a hold of me, why not just pick up the phone?”
James cut in. “Why can’t the police handle this? What do you expect Sam to do?”
Dean spared a glance at him then turned back to Sam. “I told you, I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. Just come outside and hear me out, okay?”
Sam paused for a few moments then slowly nodded.
“Good.” Dean opened the door and looked at him expectantly. Sam paused again then deliberately turned towards James. They spoke quietly, but Dean could pick up what they were saying easily enough.
“You don’t need to listen to him, Sam. He and your dad practically threw you out, you don’t owe them anything.”
“They didn’t throw me out, James. I made the decision to leave and come with you, and I don’t regret it, but… they’re family, you know? I should at least listen to what he has to say.”
James signed and nodded. “Fine, just… I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Sam smiled slightly and reached up to cup his face. “Yeah, I know.” He threw a deliberate look in Dean’s direction then leaned in and pressed his lips to James’. James’ eyes fluttered closed, but Sam continued to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye, as though waiting to see how he’d react. ‘Well hell with that,’ Dean thought irritably. ‘I’m not rising to his bait.’ He returned Sam’s look, and pointedly watched them kiss with his best ‘I’m completely uninterested’ face on. A part of him recoiled slightly at the sight of his little brother kissing another man, but he was determined not to let it affect him.
Sam seemed intent on prolonging Dean’s discomfort as long as possible, but after a minute or so he broke away. Dean raised an eyebrow at him waved his hand towards the open door, gesturing for Sam to go through. Sam sighed and nodded, then brushed past Dean and walked outside. Dean threw a final glance at James then followed his brother outside, shutting the door behind him.
“Dean, after everything that’s happened between us, do you really expect me to just drop everything and hit the road with you?”
“You’re not hearing me Sammy. Dad’s missing, I need you to help me find him.”
Sam glared at him. “I told you not to call me that. And you remember the poltergeist in Amherst, or the devil’s gates in Clifton? He was missing then too, he’s always missing and he’s always fine.”
“Not for this long. Now you gonna come with me or not?”
Sam shook his head. “Forget it, Dean. Do you remember the things he said to me? Besides, I’m done hunting.”
“Dammit, Sammy, you’ve gotta know he didn’t mean those things. He just didn’t know how to react. What’d you expect? One moment everything’s normal - ” He was interrupted by a snort from Sam. “Well, as normal as they ever were,” he amended. “Then all of a sudden you just start up a conversation with ‘oh by the way I’m dating this guy now’, and expect him to just smile and nod?”
“Yes! Christ, Dean. Is it so much to expect that my family will support me in something like this? All my life I’ve fought with Dad over hunting, over Mom and the demon, over school… but I didn’t think he was so intolerant that he’d practically kick me out of the house for admitting that I was gay!”
“He didn’t kick you out of the house, you left! If you’d just given him time, he would’ve come to terms with it.”
“Did he?”
Dean looked slightly taken aback. “What?”
“Did he ever come to terms with it? Did the two of you ever talk about it, or did you just conveniently not think about it whenever you talked about me?”
“Sam…” Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair impatiently. “We don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear to get on with it and come help me find Dad?”
“It’s a start,” Sam muttered. He was silent for a few minutes then nodded. “Fine, I’ll come. But just this one time, ‘til we find Dad.”
“Fine,” Dean replied. “Whatever you say.”
They left it at that, for the time being, as Dean filled Sam in on the case their dad had been tracking, and the message he had left Dean. That done, Sam turned to go back inside.
“I’ll just let James know that I’m going and then pack a few things. Give me ten minutes.” He turned and walked back inside before Dean could reply.
Dean sighed. This wasn’t how he’d imagined seeing Sam again, but given how things had gone between them when Sam left he supposed he should’ve expected it. And the truth was, he did regret it. Regretted not backing Sam up or defending him to their father. Sam had looked to him for support and understanding, for his big brother to be there for him like he always was, and Dean had failed him. He remembered that day like it was yesterday…
* * * * *
It was the summer of 2001, and they were living in an old house in some run-of-the-mill small town in Utah. They’d managed to settle down here for awhile, for once, long enough for Sam to actually start and finish a school year at the same high school. He was graduated now, and had been making noises about university. Something about a school out in California, and the possibility of law school after. He’d already had at least three fights with their dad about it, and Dean suspected he was looking at a long summer listening to them. In the end, though, it hadn’t been school that had driven Sam to leave. A part of it, sure - Dean knew that his little brother had aspirations for a life beyond hunting, and sometimes lying awake late at night he thought he did, too. But then, one swelteringly hot day in the middle of July, Sam had dropped the bombshell on them.
They were spending the day inside, fans whirring desperately in the heat. It was marginally cooler inside with the fans on than outside in the sun, at least. They’d gotten wind of some unusual deaths a few towns over, likely the result of a spirit of some sort, and were getting ready to head out. John was sitting in the living room polishing his guns, Dean beside him taking an inventory of holy water and salt and all the other accessories that had so long become a part of their daily routine and life. Sam was on his laptop researching, or at least that’s what he was supposed to be doing. Instead he seemed to be fidgeting, glancing down at the screen then up at John, then at his watch, then back at the screen again, though it was clear that he wasn’t reading a word of what was on the computer. Dean, nearly finished the inventory, had been watching this progression for several minutes when John finally looked up from the gun he was cleaning.
“Something you want to say, Sam?”
Sam started visibly; clearly he thought he was being stealthier than that.
“Um, n-no, sir,” he stuttered, staring back down at the screen, then again at his watch. Dean resisted the urge to point out that the computer had an in-built clock and therefore there was no reason to keep glancing at his watch.
“Right, then get back to work. If this pattern continues then we have less than twenty four hours before this son-of-a-bitch strikes again, and we’re no closer to figuring out who he was when he was alive.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam muttered, returning his blank gaze to the computer. Dean watched with some amusement as he fidgeted for a few more minutes, then finally raised his head again.
“Actually, Dad, there was something…” he gulped and seemed to gather himself. “The thing is, there’s this, uh, friend of mine, he’s leaving to go to Stanford this afternoon and I promised I’d see him off at the airport. His, um, his flight leaves in an hour, and…” he trailed off, obviously noting the unpleased expression on John’s face.
“Sam, another innocent person’s going to be dead by tomorrow if we don’t do something, and you’re worried about seeing some guy off to the airport? You can talk to him on the phone when he gets to California. Now come on, we have to figure this out then go stop this thing.”
Sam looked torn. “I know that, it’s just…” he stared down at his hands, his absurdly long hair falling in front of his eyes. “I really wanted to see him again, and…”
“Sam, the answer is no, and that’s final. Now get back to work.”
Sam’s eyes hardened. He glared back up at his father defiantly. “That’s all there ever is to you, Dad, isn’t it? Work, the job, hunting. We’ve been here almost a year and you don’t give a damn about the life I’ve had here or the people I’ve met. I’ve actually managed to be here long enough to meet someone else I give a damn about, and now that he’s leaving you won’t even let me see him one more time. I’ll be less than two hours, how much could that possibly set us back right now?”
“This is not up for discussion, Sam.”
“The hell it isn’t!” He stood up abruptly and Dean sighed in resignation to watching another fight break out between his brother and dad. “I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t just order me around like you’re still in the military! I’m your son, not some soldier you command, and I have my own life now. The person I love is leaving, and I may never see him again, and…” his voice suddenly trailed off as he seemed to realize what he had just said. He sank back into his seat with a stunned and vaguely horrified expression on his face. Dean felt frozen to his own seat, his eyes on his brother in shock. Of all the things he’d expected to hear, this was not it…
Clearly John felt the same way. His hands had stilled in their work, one clutching the gun he was cleaning and the other holding a cloth in a death grip. When he spoke it was quietly, and Dean knew that he was pissed. Silently, Dean willed him not to say anything stupid to Sam that he’d regret later.
“What did you just say?” There was steel in his voice. Too late, thought Dean with a sinking feeling. He didn’t know how he felt about Sam’s sudden revelation, and he couldn’t say he was thrilled about it, but Sam was still his little brother…
Sam just sat there staring at John in dull horror. He gulped and visibly gathered himself. “His name is James. He was in my Chemistry class this year, we were lab partners. It just… happened, Dad. He’s been over a few times, but you probably haven’t noticed…” a hint of accusation in that last part.
John seemed briefly distracted by this. “Blond kid? Looks like he plays football or something?”
Dean searched through his own memory, trying to recall the boy in question.
Sam had occasionally brought friends over, but no faces were popping up in his mind.
“Yeah,” Sam replied quietly, “that’s him. I’m surprised you remember.”
“And he’s been here before. With you. The two of you, under my roof.” Clearly the full meaning of this was sinking in.
Sam obviously realized the same. “Nothing happened here, Dad, really.” Dean could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful, and John seemed to know it too.
“I’m not having this, Sam, not in my house. My son is not queer, you got it? I didn’t raise you like that.”
Dean winced at the look on Sam’s face; he looked like he’d been slapped. This definitely wasn’t going a good way, and he knew he should intervene, but he didn’t know what to say. Whatever he said was going to further antagonize either his brother or his dad, and to be honest he himself wasn’t even certain what he felt. He knew it shouldn’t bother him, but thinking of his little brother with another man was… weird. At the least, it’d take some getting used to.
Sam and John stared at each other for a few more moments, then Sam silently stood up and walked out of the room. Dean glanced at his father, but John was just looking straight ahead, his hand still tightly clutched around the gun. Dean opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. He felt out of his league this time, and didn’t know what to say to either Sam or his father to make this better. They sat there silently, listening to Sam moving around and banging things upstairs. Less than ten minutes later Sam returned, a duffel bag and backpack slung over his shoulder.
“I’m leaving,” he announced in a flat voice.
Dean’s eyes flew to Sam’s face, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He opened his mouth again to say something, anything - to tell Sam that it didn’t matter to him, being gay. That he still loved him. Anything. But John beat him to it, finally throwing the gun aside with none of his usual care and standing up to face Sam.
“You’re not going anywhere, son. You’re going to stay here and we’re going to work this out, you got it? You’re just confused; once this kid’s gone things will go back to normal and we can forget it ever happened.”
Definitely not the right thing to say, Dean reflected. Sam was glaring at his father with more anger than Dean had ever seen in his face during their normal fights.
“I’m not just going to forget this, Dad. It’s not just some fling or experiment or whatever. I love James, and I’m gay. I always have been, you’ve just never bothered to notice. Didn’t you ever realize that I never had any girlfriends? That while Dean was out trying to get into the pants of every pretty girl he came across, I never showed any interest?”
Dean wanted to protest that last part, but on reflection decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.
Sam continued, “I’m not interested in girls, I never have been. That’s not going to change. And if that’s going to be a problem, then I’m not going to stick around. I want to go to Stanford with James, Dad. I’ve already been accepted, I’ve got a scholarship, and I’m going. And you can’t stop me.” His voice was rising steadily. “I’m gay, and I’m not going to change. I am who I am, and if you don’t like it you can go to hell.”
He turned to leave, and Dean finally found his voice. “Sam, wait,” he sounded more desperate than he’d meant to, but at least it made Sam pause for a moment. “Come on, Sammy, just stop for a minute and let us talk about it.” A part of him felt like laughing at the thought of him being the one to want to talk about something, being the one trying to persuade Sam to open up emotionally. But all he could think of now was that Sam was leaving, for real this time, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Sam turned to meet Dean’s eyes. His own eyes were hollow, his voice laced with pain. “There’s nothing to talk about, Dean. He’s,” and here he jerked his head towards John, “made his feelings on this perfectly clear. I stay and pretend to be straight, continue this half-life of constant moving and hunting that we lead, or leave and be with the man I love and go to college. Make a life for myself. I can’t ignore who I am, Dean, I just… I can’t do it.”
And before Dean or John could say another word, he turned once again and walked out the door.
* * * * *
By mutual silent agreement, Sam and Dean said nothing about James or the circumstances in which Sam had left four years ago as they worked together on the hunt. Everything went smoothly, or as smoothly as they ever do, and by Sunday night they were back at Stanford. Dean watched as Sam walked away from him and back towards his apartment, mulling over the last few days. He’d meant what he’d said - they had made a good team, and he couldn’t help but wish that Sam would be with him on the 600 mile trip to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado to track down Dad. But Sam had a life here, now, and Dean knew it’d take more than a couple of days back together on the hunt to lure him away from James and the promise of law school.
He started to drive away, right hand already fiddling with the cassette player, when a burst of light from inside the apartment made him stop. That did not look good. He slammed the car into park and bolted out, making for the front door. He heard Sam yell from inside, and without thinking he kicked down the door and ran inside. What he saw coming from the bedroom brought him up short, memories of his mother’s death, long dimmed by time, rushing to the forefront. James was on the ceiling, surrounded by flame, and Sam was on the bed under him staring up in shock and desperately calling James’ name.
Dean took quick stock of the room and realized that they had to get out of there, now, before the entire room erupted into flame. He grabbed Sam and tried to wrestle him out of the bedroom. “We gotta get out of here!” He yelled at him, pulling him off of the bed and towards the door.
“James! No!” Sam cried out, watching with anguished eyes as the flames consumed James. With some difficulty Dean dragged him from the room and out the front door, as the entire apartment burst into flames. Once outside, Sam dropped to the pavement, his legs no longer seeming able to support him. Beside him, Dean whipped out his cell phone and called 911. That done, he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, offering what silent support he had. Whatever uncertainty and discomfort he had felt over Sam’s choice in lovers, he’d never wanted this to happen. He’d seen how strongly his brother felt for the other man - strong enough to propel him to leave home and follow him to college, and strong enough to keep them together for over four years. Their dad may have thought it just a stage that Sam would get over, just a moment of sexual confusion in his youth, but Dean now knew that that wasn’t the case.
Under his hand he felt Sam’s shoulders shake as his brother started to cry. Unable to think of any words that could possibly comfort Sam right now, Dean settled for squeezing his shoulder and staying beside him as he cried. Not long later the firemen arrived, and he silently watched them go about their work putting out the flames. He felt Sam shift under him, shrugging off his hand then standing up. Sam glanced at Dean, and Dean could see the pain and anger burning in his red eyes. Without saying anything, Sam turned and walked towards where the Impala was parked. Dean hung around a few more minutes, watching as the firemen put out the last of the flames, then walked over to where Sam had the Impala’s trunk open and was loading a rifle. He glanced at his brother who sighed and nodded his head.
Sam tossed the rifle into the trunk. “We got work to do,” was all he said as he shut the trunk. Dean watched as he headed for the passenger seat, his back straight and belying any hint of his grief. With a sigh Dean moved to the driver’s side and opened the door. Sam was right, they had work to do.
Fin.